


Not a robot

by xagentofchaos



Series: Murphamy drabbles [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Misunderstandings, Murphamy - Freeform, Nightmares, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Use, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xagentofchaos/pseuds/xagentofchaos
Summary: Murphy had a nightmare and called Bellamy for comfort





	

Murphy woke up with a sharp breath, sweat running down his face and down his back. The sheets underneath his naked body were already damp and felt uncomfortable against him. He sat up slowly, head spinning fast from every small movement. For a moment he just sat and breathed with his back leaned against the cold wall, trying to wash off everything that the dream had stained in his brain. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to wake up from a nightmare this time of year, when the snow had colored the streets white and people started decorating every corner with lights and Christmas reefs. Every year was a constant reminder of the inevitable, the subtle hints of his family slowly but steadily shattering to pieces. 

A reminder of how it was before it started to crumble; of early Christmas mornings when he stumbled down the stairs on his bare feet, still dressed in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajamas and was met with the glittery lights from their big Christmas tree. He would rush towards the tree and sit down by the large pile of presents, and reach out to the first one he saw with his name on it. His dad would come out from the kitchen, his t-shirt speckled with flour from the baking with mom, he would wish him a merry Christmas and then tell him to only open one present. His mom would then call out from the kitchen that he was allowed to open three if he had been a good boy this year. Dad would then list up all the naughty things he had done but would then laugh and ruffle Murphy’s hair with his big hands. 

A reminder of how it was when dad died of cancer after Halloween; mom would stay inside more and avoid any social situation. Murphy would get assigned more chores at home and she excused it with migraines. He didn’t question it, or protest against it, but dutifully did all the chores he had been assigned that day. Quickly it had become more and tougher tasks for a young boy to handle by himself, so mom would figure out ways for her to help him with the toughest things. Their insurance hadn’t been able to cover the entire bill for dad’s medical help at the hospital, so they had a lot of debts on their heads that they needed to repay. Murphy started cutting his neighbor’s lawns, walking the dogs and feeding the more exotic animals during the weekends. He wouldn’t spend a single cent for his own entertainment, but only to fill the jar of the bill debts. He got more and more detached from his youth and grew up faster than he ever wanted. 

A reminder how it was during every Christmas after dad had passed; of mom starting to drink. She would hide bottles underneath her bed and in the darkest corners of the cabinets. On the first Christmas they spent without dad she wasn’t sober for three days straight. They only celebrated the holiday with friends and family three years before mom stopped wanting to go, and he was stuck in the house with her sobbing and sipping yet another day. 

He had started doing very bad in school, his grades dropped faster than his voice did during puberty. Every week was he sent to the principal’s office and was put in curfew after every lesson for being disrespectful and aggressive to teachers and being in fights with the students. Until he stopped going altogether and started hanging with the wrong group of people; the true outcasts and delinquents of the city. His family had had dreams of him going to college when he got older, he went down the road of drugs, self-harm and bad decisions instead. 

His mom died when he was eighteen, drowned in her own vomit in the bed she had shared with dad. After a last gulp of cheap whisky had she fallen asleep with the back of her skull buried in the soft pillow and stains of sweat. At that time hadn’t he talked to her for two weeks, and it took a long time for him to start missing her. After all those years of growing up too soon, and being yelled at by a woman he had thought was his mom but the way her breath reeked of alcohol he knew it wasn’t her. But a slap across his cheek burned just as much, and he left the house to get his anger and frustration out on whatever was coming his way. 

He had dreamed about the terrors during the nights he felt when sleeping outside on the streets. Many days was spent by an abandoned dumpster, where unprovoked fights were held to get undiagnosed anger out of their systems, and syringes accompanied spit, condoms and gravel on the ground. Murphy was often covered in bruises and bleeding wounds, and he fell asleep on benches in the nearest park with sharp pain going through his body by every intake of air. He often had to steal heavy sleeping pills from pharmacies to make the days go faster, and he used heroin to disappear from the hours when he didn’t sleep. 

Then, one night when he had just popped the pills in his mouth and swallowed them dry, had a park guard walked up to him and told him to get the fuck out. Murphy - who never let a stranger tell him what to do - told the guard to piss off, and was forced to sleep in a drunk cell. In there, he met Bellamy Blake who was in for being in the wrong place at the wrong time as a fight had broken lose on the streets. The man barely spared him a glance as Murphy had stumbled in, feeling the pill starting to numb his body down. He slid down by the wall right beside the man who furrowed his brows in annoyance for having his personal space taken up by a complete stranger. Murphy attempted to tell him to move if he found physical contact to frightening, but instead he yawned and let the pill lull him to sleep. 

He had woken up with his head on the man’s shoulder and felt somewhat forced to talk to him. Luckily he hadn’t drooled and most of the times he wouldn’t have cared about it, if it had happened before, but the man beside him was _hot_. 

He reached out to fetch his phone that was lying on his nightstand and locked it up. Bellamy’s number was among the few he frequently called of texted to, he didn’t have many contacts. He put the phone to his ear and waited for the beeps to turn silent. His heart was racing in his chest and he felt a panic attack coming through. 

“You okay?” Bellamy’s voice spoke through and Murphy couldn’t help but let out a stiff laugh.

“Why do you assume I’m not?” 

“It’s three am”, Bellamy responded. “You don’t sound so good, where are you right now?” 

Murphy smiled softly at the voice of Bellamy’s worry. After Bellamy had been in the cell for more than eight hours he was allowed to leave, but he had instead stayed with Murphy. The reason being that he argued with the guards that Murphy wasn’t even drunk, but the man lost the argument and decided to stay until Murphy was free to go. Why, Murphy was still not sure, but he was glad because Bellamy had helped him a lot. 

“I’m home. Just needed to talk I guess.” 

Bellamy hummed on the other line, not really buying Murphy’s reason. 

“Christmas soon”, he said instead and a knot formed in Murphy’s stomach. He made a grunting noise at that. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

“Nightmare”, Murphy forced out, his throat was thick and he suddenly had a hard time breathing again. Bellamy fell in silence for a while but Murphy could hear a shuffling noise in the background. He wanted to be distracted by the sound of Bellamy’s velvety voice. 

“Hang on a second”, Bellamy said and then he hung up. Murphy gaped in confusion in the dark of his bedroom, the phone still pressed against his ear. He got an empty feeling in his stomach, fingers shaking of hurt from Bellamy’s ignorance. This is what happened when he got too attached to people. 

After the drunk cell incident, they had started hanging out. Bellamy was a good man following the law and was training to become a security guard; Murphy was the broken boy that got attached to his hip. But Bellamy hadn’t seemed to mind, he brought Murphy to his and his sister’s place and let him stay there for a couple of weeks before he managed to find a decent job for him. From the money he earned he was able to afford to rent an apartment, and didn’t have to feel guilty over taking up space in Bellamy and Octavia’s house.

He was in forever debt of Bellamy’s unconditional kindness. But now he lied in bed feeling more dissociative and hurt than ever. Even his mother’s yanks in his hair, burning slaps against his cheeks and domestically abusing him whenever he was home didn’t add up to the disconcerting feelings he had in his chest right now. He felt ignored, like the way he felt over Christmas wasn’t valid for Perfect Bellamy’s life and his high class privileges. 

When Bellamy had helped him coming back to reality, he had also helped him with a spot at rehab to get rid of his drug addictions. It was a hard and long way, and he wasn’t completely out of it. He still got cravings at the worst hours, and now was one of those times. He could almost feel his veins churn in his arm, screaming for a needle to fill them up. 

He started to sweat again and was freezing. He didn’t understand why Bellamy just hung up on him. He had known for a long time that he wasn’t worthy of a good ending and he damned himself for allowing feeling hope in the midst of a crisis. He had been happy and content being near Bellamy. Whenever he woke up from their couch and got used to being touched by nice people again, whether it was small pats on his back, or longer hugs before bed, or when Bellamy laced his lips over Murphy’s. 

This is what happened when he allowed himself to be happy and fall in love. He had never felt like this before, but it’s his curse. 

The clock had slowly turned four when he heard a sharp ring of the bell by the front door. He stirred in confusion by the sound but didn’t make any attempts to stand up to open. His body felt infused with the bed. But when one ring turned to five long, sharp rings he groaned and stumbled out of bed. Only dressed in his underwear, but he wasn’t known for the most modest person in the world. He opened and was greeted with Bellamy who stood there with sweat running down his forehead and being out of breath. He opened his mouth to ask what he was doing here but was interrupted by the man pulling him close in a hug. 

Bellamy’s jacket felt cold against Murphy’s chest from the early morning air, but he didn’t mind the change of temperature. He found himself leaning further into the embrace and learning how to breathe normally again. But then he remembered that Bellamy hung up on him so he forces himself to push away from Bellamy’s touch. 

The man looks at him in confusion and Murphy hates that look.

“You hung up on me”, he hisses, throat still thick from panic attacks and knots. Bellamy nods and ducks his head guiltily. 

“You were feeling upset so I ran here. Sorry, I should’ve told you beforehand.” 

“Yes, you should’ve.” 

They stand in silence for a moment. Bellamy finding his breath and Murphy gnawing on his under lip. The heroin need had subdued into nothingness and he wasn’t angry anymore. Still hurt, but the fact that Bellamy had ran to his place for his sake reduced a lot of those emotions too. 

He sighed and backed away from the door. “You want to come in?” 

Bellamy’s concerned expression turned into a warm smile and he nodded. Murphy went into his bedroom again and thought about changing the sweaty sheets but Bellamy was already in there with him, on his way to undress and Murphy was deadly tired. If Bellamy couldn’t handle his fluids on the sheets then he couldn’t handle him at all. 

Bellamy crawled into bed and lied with his back against the wall, inviting Murphy to lie close to his body. Murphy in his turn backed into Bellamy and wasn’t protesting on being the little spoon. 

“You want to talk about the dream?” Bellamy murmured softly in Murphy’s ear. Murphy shook his head.

“Tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He got a kiss on his nape before he was lulled asleep by Bellamy’s warm breathing on his neck.


End file.
